


A Brother's Regret

by In_Much_Stress



Series: Just A Random Playlist [51]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination, Author needs sleep, Dream doesn't have a nice childhood, Enemies to Lovers to Friends, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, King Philza, M/M, Next To Write Is Tentacle Porn hooray, No Beta We Die Like Endermen, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Philza is the Dad, Prince Technoblade, Prince Wilbur Soot, Referenced Child Abuse, Servant Dream, Song: Aku no Mashitsukai | The Servant of Evil, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, but nice comments work better, he always is a King, or feed me hate so I get spiteful it works too, please feed me nice comments, screeching our lungs out, song: regret message, this sucked out my soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28448265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Much_Stress/pseuds/In_Much_Stress
Summary: Dream knows of regret. The melody he plays in the piano doesn’t let him forget.KEEP IN MIND that this was made for us, shippers, and us only and you should not show this to either CC unless given clear and enthusiastic consent. Also, if you're gonna waste your time telling me to stop, I want you to think for a second and go find something to do with your life, because you ain't righteous and you sure ain't protecting anyone, Anti.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Just A Random Playlist [51]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639864
Comments: 32
Kudos: 375





	A Brother's Regret

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Servant's Loyalty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157894) by [In_Much_Stress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Much_Stress/pseuds/In_Much_Stress). 



> Servant of Evil and Regret Message by mothy
> 
> My internet is so crappy I literally had to write the tags word by word

Dream knows of hate from a very young age.

He is four when he is discovered by the King, living in a run down shack in the outskirts of the town far, far away from the castle, where sea meets land and dreams are taken. His mother died a year earlier, and the only one taking care of him is the oldest nun of the nearby church, an old lady that clearly wouldn’t live to see his tenth birthday. Dream himself didn’t think he’d live to see his tenth birthday back then, so what isn’t his surprise when the King himself comes to him with the name of his deceased mother in his lips.

There is no emotion in his poisonous green eyes, no remorse, no longing, no sadness, not even unwelcomed pity. The King is a statue of a man, looking down on Dream as if he couldn’t believe he shared the same genes as the vermin sitting on the sandy floor of the crumbling shack despite the characteristic blonde hair and green eyes they both have.

Dream hates him and he is not afraid of showing.

Before the man can say anything else, maybe taint his late “lover’s” name with his disgusting voice, Dream spits on the floor right by the King’s feet, an unmistakable sign of disrespect. The man glares at the kid, a look that would make a lesser man shake in his boots, but Dream is no lesser man. He has nothing to lose, and that makes him dangerous, albeit more to himself than others.

The winner of the fight is obvious from the beginning; a four years old with a stolen switchblade against the King of an entire Kingdom with an expertly forged sword will never end with the child as the victor. All Dream wins is a scar on his back and the satisfaction of saying a trail of blood runs down the King's face, the only attack he managed to land. The King smiles then, something wicked and terrifying, before making an offer the blonde child can't refuse.

Dream hates his father, the King.

* * *

Dream is aware of disgust, has been ever since he and his mother had to beg in the streets. So he doesn’t pay the disgusted glares the maids give him as they scrub away the dirt from his small body, instead focusing on the King who watches him with a pensive face.

“We will cover that disgusting face of yours, boy.”

“Why? Does it bring Father bad memories?”

“I should cut off your tongue, you ungrateful bastard.”

“Oh, but I am very thankful that Father has brought me here.”

“Don’t try to butter me up, we both know you will take my life the first chance you get. Speak formally. And don’t call me that.”

“You’re the one to blame for inviting this wild beast to your home under a servant’s disguise, Your Highness.”

“Good thing iron never fails to tame beasts.”

Dream is aware of disgust, as it is the only thing he can feel when his father—no, when the _King_ hands him a white ceramic mask. It is smooth and blank, with only two small holes for him to be able to see. The meaning is clear: he has no identity, no humanity, no past or future. He is a no one, a faceless shadow to watch over and obey. He wears it with a heavy heart and the desire to make the old man swallow it piece by piece.

* * *

Dream learns of love for the second time exactly three years after the first encounter with the King.

He meets Drista, his little sister, at her fifth birthday party. He is the gift from the King, a shadow in training, raised to serve with his last breath.

Dream has been training for three years non-stop, never once asking why he is in the castle. He knows. He wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, he is a loose end the King was going to eliminate back that day. But the King and him truly are family, as the old man appreciates insolence and stubbornness—in fact, that’s what attracted him to Dream's mother all those years ago—as much as his son and took the boy under his wing to be trained with iron and fire for one purpose and one purpose only: be the shadow of the next Queen, the only heir to the throne, Princess Drista. He isn’t sure what exactly the King is planning on doing to make him loyal to the Princess instead of seizing the chance to end the current royal bloodline, once the Queen died in childbirth and the King became infertile after surviving a peculiar disease after the heir’s birth, and taking the throne, but whatever it is, it becomes useless as soon as his eyes meet his sister’s.

They’re of the same poisonous green as their father’s, but much younger, much shinier, much lovelier. Her freckled face lights up in wonder as she circles him, looking him up and down with barely contained excitement. She’s five and full of life, standing there with a puffed chest and a very frilly dress, and Dream loves it. He loves her. He wants her to be happy, to live her life however she wants. He wants to be there for her as long as he lives.

“Dream, your first order is to stay with me! Forever!” Princess Drista orders, pointing at him with a bright smile that only widens when he kneels in front of her and bows his head respectfully.

“Yes, Your Highness. This servant shall forever stay by your side.”

For the first time since his mother, Dream learns of love.

* * *

Dream has never experienced child-like wonder.

Ever since he was born, Life made sure to teach him many lessons through hardships as tragedies. Not even moving into the palace and gaining purpose changed that, he still goes through trials and tribulations everyday. His body and soul already carry too many scars, and he doubts not that they’ll gain many more in the future.

But when he looks at Drista, his adored sister, he feels something akin to fascination. Something so small and fragile looks up at him with clear green eyes shining in amazement, as if _he_ is someone one should gawke. The eight years old doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stall and doesn’t bother hiding. She is genuine in everything she does, everything she says and everything she _is,_ never tarnished by the darkness that lurks around.

She is a pure light that doesn’t waver, and as her shadow, Dream makes sure she shines as brightly as she can.

Maybe it’s not child-like, but it does bring him some wonder when the girl takes off his mask as if it were her own—in a way, it is, as he is hers—and draws a big smile on it the very same day he apologizes for not being able to smile at her.

* * *

Dream greets pure rage for the first time six springs after his vow to his sister.

It is a chilly night, but his blood boils as he sits behind Princess Drista’s door and listens to her cries. The King is not a man of honor, much less a man of love, and not even his “so dear” daughter is safe from his cruelty. Drista is a strong girl, and harsh words and mild punishments will be effective only for so long, but now, in his desperation to find a way to escape Death, the King has finally crossed the line, raising his hand for the first and last time.

It is funny how the King has prepared everything so his daughter would be able to get her crown once he died and keep the Kingdom’s glory, but now that it’s so close to happening, the man panics and tries to backtrack.

As if Dream would allow it.

“Just give this servant the order, My Lady.”

“Go.” Muffled and wobbly, but not fearful, his beloved sister is truly very strong.

“Consider it done.”

Drista’s tears dry as the King’s blood soaks his sheets and his son’s clothing. The King has the audacity to smile at the emotionless mask, at the tamed beast of his own creation, a smile full of scorn and corrosive knowledge. He, better than anyone, knows what he has raised. He knew from the very beginning how things would end.

And if he didn’t, it doesn’t matter anyways, for his last breath dissipates together with Dream’s rage.

* * *

Pride is not enough of a word for Dream to describe what he feels for his sister, but in the lack of a better one, he sticks with it just how he sticks with Drista. _Queen_ Drista, the newly crowned Queen, the youngest Queen at age twelve. It took awhile for Dream to prepare everything and get rid of the pests in his sister’s way, but now she’s able to shine brightly from the throne that is rightfully hers. 

“Play that again.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And don’t speak formally when we are alone, brother.”

“Okay, sister.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe you learned the piano just because I mentioned liking the sound once.”

“This servant—”

_“Brother.”_

_“I_ will do everything to ensure your happiness.”

“Even if I ask you to become a monster?”

“I should be the one asking if you’re really willing to keep this simple-minded beast by your side, sister.”

“And what if I become a monster? Will you still stay with me?”

“If there is where your happiness lies, sister.”

“Good. You’re never allowed to leave me.”

His fingers play a thousand ballads in her name and a thousand more as a vow to follow her order to the ends of the world, not a sad note is allowed to reach Drista’s ears. Dream might feel a little jealous for never being able to step in the light with his sister, but he is proud of her for doing so confidently, and that is enough for his heart.

* * *

Curiosity has been a companion ever since Dream first opened his eyes, and it has never once left him in his sixteen years of life.

So when he gets the chance to take a look at Prince Wilbur from the neighbor Kingdom, he takes it. He is a shadow, anyway, he is made to not be noticed, so it’s not hard to sneak his way into the dungeon. He knows the place with his whole heart, having spent many days hiding there under the late King’s tutelage and then under his duties with Queen Drista.

Prince Wilbur is very handsome, and probably would be even more handsome out of his ragged clothes and without the haunted look in his face. He truly is a member of royalty, he’s been in between the moldy walls for barely a week and he already looks terrible. How pitiful will the brunette look once the tormenting begins?

Curiosity crawls up Dream’s spine.

* * *

Understanding is something new to Dream, but it fits comfortably.

“You remind me of Technoblade sometimes.”

“Who’s Technoblade?”

“My little brother.”

“What is he like?”

“He… is a stubborn little prick who tries to act high and mighty and hides behind an emotionless mask, but in reality, he’s just a big softy.”

“There is no way this servant is like Prince Technoblade, then.”

“You’re right, Dream is way prettier.”

“You haven’t ever seen this servant’s face, Your Highness!”

Dream certainly is nothing like Prince Technoblade, and definitively is nothing like Prince Wilbur, but he can understand the shine in the brunette’s eyes when talking about his little sibling.

* * *

Living in poverty gave Dream a very keen sense of dread that has saved his life many times. He knew that something would happen as soon as he saw the guards.

His face is hard and his hands steady as he cuts off the fingers of those ballsy guards who thought they could have their wicked way with Prince Wilbur. There are many burning feelings running inside his veins, but he pays them no mind, cleaning off the blood from his blade on what was left of the guards’ uniform.

Awareness is a scary thing, however, and he tries to leave without a word, set on bringing the prisoner some supplies to clean and treat himself and some new clothing without daring to look at the older boy. Something inside him dreaded the brunette’s reaction.

Dream almost falls on his face when Wilbur suddenly hugs him from behind. The brunette is way taller than the blonde, and it definitely isn’t only because he is a year older. The Prince had once mentioned that being tall is in his blood, both his father and his little brother are also very tall. There is almost no strength in his grip, however, and Dream is quick to support the other’s weight as Wilbur cries his thanks on his shoulder.

Dream isn’t sure if he can call the feeling inside him “dread” anymore.

* * *

Dream was raised in loyalty. First to his mother, then to his sister.

However, it is concerning how easy it is to let go of it.

That is what he thinks when he hands his friend some supplies and spare clothes, six months after Prince Wilbur was kidnapped, and gives him detailed instructions on how to escape and how to get in the neighboring Kingdom as fast and safely as possible. The brunette has tears on his eyes and many words they don’t have the time to exchange right now. Time is precious, there is no way to know what Queen Drista might do if she finds Wilbur trying to run away.

Wilbur looks away only once, just enough to catch a glimpse of Dream’s maskless face, now one of the only three living people who has seen it.

The next day, Queen Drista asks him if he was involved with her favorite toy’s daring escape. His expression is as blank as his mask when he answers truthfully, ready to accept whatever punishment his short lapse of loyalty brings. His sister, however, only laughs, pointing out that the war would happen even if Wilbur stayed, her smile bright as she offered to spare Prince Wilbur once they are victorious.

Dream bows his head and awaits orders, not daring to accept or refuse the offer.

The war begins a week after, King Philza attacking with aggressiveness not common from a ruler praised to be patient and wise. Dream can recognize the rage that fuels the King and his Kingdom, the rage of someone with something to _avenge._ The blonde servant attends meeting after meeting dutifully, pouring all of his knowledge in the strategies and plans, personally training the army, managing the money, anything and everything his sister needs done, Deram is there to fulfill.

Dream is not much of a fighter, his training shifting from heavy-hitting to assassination tecniques, but his skills are still leads above the rest of the army. He is the shadow of Her Majesty, Queen Drista, after all. Being able to do all of that is only natural, since he is the one who has to make sure her light doesn’t dim dealing with such things.

Sadly, that also brings him the terrible ability of forethought.

Queen Drista’s rejection of the peace treaty is no surprise.

The fall of their Kingdom is no surprise.

And neither should be Dream’s sacrifice.

The creme dress is big and full of frills and bows, like an extravagant wedding cake, the exact type of luxury his sister likes to show off. Definitely nothing someone can run in, much less fight, so he rushes the Queen into changing her clothes to a loose shirt, plain pants and a cloak to hide her blonde hair. When she runs out of the castle, she looks like a servant trying to avoid getting in the middle of the crossfire. The guards that ambush Dream and take him in custody don’t even look her way.

Dream smiles the whole way to the enemy’s castle, soul serene like a peaceful lake. Drista is safe, she’s a bright girl, as long as she’s alive, she’ll do brilliantly. The beast has completed his objective to hi very last breath, there is no reason to fear his encounter with King Philza.

Part of him does wish he could see Wilbur before his head rolls, but it’s more wishful thinking than anything. Wilbur is now just as free as Drista, and as Dream will be.

Loyalty is what brings Dream his doom. It is no surprise.

* * *

Dream is no stranger to gratitude, of course.

He has been thanked many times for his doings, even if they were not for the sake of who was thanking him for the most time. But this time, it’s different. He has no idea what to do with Wilbur’s genuine care. The Prince cleans him from dust and grime with his own hands, dresses his wounds, feeds him delicious food, brushes his hair gently, tells him stories and sometimes even soothes him with soft sung lullabies.

Wilbur’s touch is always tender, as if Dream is part of his precious family. The blonde doesn’t know what to do about it, so he does nothing. Reminding the Prince of how much of a waste it is to take care of a shadow—a killer, a kidnapper, a criminal, a sinner—ends in the brunette shushing him and doubling his mothering. It is a new side to his friend—can they be friends?—Dream has never seen.

Prince Technoblade watches from the entrance of the cell, being the usual escort for Prince Wilbur, eyes burning with hatred. He has to be the most beautiful person Dream has ever seen, with the long pink hair and the piercing red eyes. Prince Technoblade will grow to be a gorgeous man.

Hopefully, Drista grows up to be just as gorgeous. Dream dreams of her some nights. He is glad she’s safe, probably already rebuilding a life outside the newly expanded enemy Kingdom. He prays every night to a God he has already abandoned—and who has already abandoned him—to allow his dear little sister a good life despite her past mistakes. As warped as her light is, it is still light.

And as King Philza offers him a position in the castle as Wilbur’s servant, he dares thank that same God for the opportunity, however slim, to see his sister again.

* * *

Hopelessness tastes like a bitter tea you simply can’t stop drinking.

“He doesn’t hate you, he’s just jealous. He’s sixteen and still a brat.”

“Wilbur, if he could burn a hole in my head, I wouldn’t be here already. I think there’s more to his glare than a younger sibling’s jealousy.”

“Why do you want him to like you anyways?”

“Is not that I _want_ him to… I just thought it’d be nice not to be killed mentally every time we cross paths.”

“Oh, so you’re infatuated!”

“What? What?!”

“C’mon, Dream, no need to be shy~!”

“This servant would never—! That is wrong on so many levels! This servant—!”

“Whoa, calm down, you’re going back to your old speech patterns. And why would it be wrong?”

“Wilbur, this servant— _I_ have the blood of thousands, innocents and sinners, in my hands, I served Queen Drista wholeheartedly, I sat by and allowed a war to start…! Someone like me should never want more than whatever he’s given.”

“It’s funny that you keep reminding me of all that, yet all I see when I look at you is a bright man who saved me despite the troubles it would cause. In fact, I dare even think of you as a little brother.”

“Don’t you fear I will go back to my sister at the first opportunity?”

“Will you?”

Hopelessness gives no answers for the doubts it brings, no peace for those it haunts.

* * *

Smugness is particularly satisfactory when one is teasingly dipping their feet on Death.

Dream can’t help his smirk, as weak as it is, when he hears Emperor Jschlatt yelling at his men, the man’s voice muddled against Dream’s ringing ears. His mind is foggy, and he can feel the poison running inside his body. It’s a familiar feeling from a familiar poison, and his body will recover soon enough. His father is probably rolling in his grave right now, cursing himself for giving the beast a strong body capable of withstand the most potent substances and then allowing that beast to fall in the enemy’s hands.

“Why are you smiling?”

That monotone voice can only be Prince Technoblade’s. Dream’s eyelids are heavy, and it is taking him a fierce battle to keep them open, but he still looks up at the pinkette, trying to focus on his handsome face, or at the very least his captivating eyes. It'd be rather poetic to die like this, staring at the eyes of the guy who’s stealing his heart. However, he won’t die. Dream is stubborn like that.

As if reading his thoughts, the youngest Prince huffs, and Dream smirks smugly again as his vision turns black.

* * *

Dream acquaintances himself with pride again at age nineteen.

“I’m younger than you, but I’m still way better.”

“And more humble."

“Shut up, I’ve been training to kill since birth, I’m allowed to be prideful every now and then.”

“So have I, just differently.”

“... One day, I’ll get you to fight me for real. Not a duel, since it’s obvious who’s the best one, but a battle of wits… I’ve been craving for it for some time now.”

“Really?”

“You gave me headaches with your battle strategies back then.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t because you were up after your bedtime?”

“Oh, fuck off. You’re lucky Wilbur likes you, you old fart, or you’d be dead by now.”

“Only Wilbur?”

“Yes, Dream, only Wilbur… stop staring at me like that.”

Prince Technoblade will be a greater man than all of them, and Dream can’t stop watching as the pinkette burns brightly like an unruly fire. He is so proud of him, selfishly wanting to stay near Prince Technoblade for as long as he is allowed.

* * *

Heartache is a cruel friend, one that permeates everything, from the most intouchable to the most ordinary.

“Why do you have tattoos? I know it’s a tradition between warriors, but I never knew why.”

“Scars are a disgrace for any noble warrior, a shameful proof of one’s failing to be stronger than the opponent, so it’s tradition to cover them with tattoos. Technically, shadows like me aren’t allowed to have them, since we are a little more than servants, but…”

“But?”

“My sister caught me staring at my scars one day and immediately ordered for the Kingdom’s best tattoo artist to come, bringing the ink with the best quality in the Kingdom.”

“Oh… Did you choose the color?”

“My sister did. She always said that I look best in gold... We fought right after because I couldn’t accept it. Gold is the symbol of the royal family, a lowly servant, a mere shadow like me should never wear it. Gold is made to shine brightly, not be hidden in the murky darkness.”

“Well, good thing then you shine the brightest of them all.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now, Techno?”

“It’s funny you call yourself a beast from the shadows, when all I see when I look at you is light.”

Heartache can be fought, however, with a hug and whispered reassurances of a loved one. Not all of it, no, it’ll always linger, always ready to come out when he thinks about his past, when he thinks about his sister, when he remembers about his scars, when he misses the protection of his mask. But it is much weaker when the heart has someone to beat for.

* * *

Dream knows of love, has known since very young, but tonight, in between feverish kisses, searing touches and moaned promises, he learns of a different type of love.

A type of love he thought himself incapable and unworthy of.

A type of love he has been cultivating for years now, and tonight, at his beloved Prince’s eighteenth birthday, he is finally able to reap what he has sown. He still isn’t fully convinced this is more than a dream, still doesn’t know if he truly is allowed to be so happy, and still feels a profound sadness when he thinks of how his sister will never get to see his happiness, or how he will never get to see her happiness.

It’s been a little over three years, Dream misses her dearly, but going after her might put her at risk. He is still a prisoner in the castle, technically, and she is still a criminal. The people of the Kingdom might have overlooked him thanks to the sob story of a poor, brainwashed brother that Wilbur came up with, but they won’t be so willing when the one who supposedly did that to him shows herself. No, it’s safer for her to be away from him and the Kingdom. She’s bright, she’ll find a way.

So he sighs, inhaling some of his lover’s scent as the pinkette sleeps, the green jewel of his gift dangling from his neck. They will need to get up eventually, if not to avoid the teasing by a certain brunette prince, then to spare the maids of the picturesque scene they make, disheveled and naked, and utterly satisfied.

It isn’t the same love he felt for his mother, or even for his sister, but Dream enjoys it immensely.

* * *

Relief is truly a powerful thing.

Today was supposed to be a day only for the lovers to celebrate their two years of relationship, a day in the town far, far away from the castle, where land meets sea and dreams are given form. It is the very same town Dream grew up in, a good place to go through his memories. Despite the meaning behind every corner and every alley, Dream made sure they both were happy, exploring the place, eating at random stops, wasting money they had no use for in stuff they also had no use for.

Eventually Dream asked to visit the church, if only to pay respects to the elderly nun who once took care of him. He doesn’t have much need for religion. At first, everything seemed fine. Techno and Dream were two lovers looking at the colorful glass panes, hands linked and hearts connected, eyes lost in the daydream of one day getting married and weaving their fates together for the rest of eternity.

Then a young nun called out Dream’s name.

Confused, he stared at her with a raised eyebrow, curious as to why she was tearing up. She then took out of her robes an unmistakable white mask, a mask that has been away from a freckled face for six years now.

The poorly drawn smile greets him like an old friend.

Just like the warm tears in his face.

Just like the warm hug she offers.

The mask falls to the floor with a loud clatter, but it doesn’t matter. Drista, his beloved sister, his first light, is here, and she’s alive, and she’s safe, and he is so happy and so relieved he can feel his knees getting weak. The woman—a _woman_ she is!—cries in his chest like she used to do when they were younger, clinging to him like a lifeline, and he clings right back, the rest of the world forgotten.

The blade of Prince Technoblade’s sword shines menacingly under the colorful light of the church.

Dream promptly shoves his sister behind his body, heart filling with sorrow and desperation as pleads leave his lips. He begs and implores for Prince Technoblade to not be hasty, to allow his little sister, his only living relative, to keep her everlasting soul. He points out how harmless she has become, and how much she regrets her past to the point of living quietly near the sea and dedicating her life to the church.

“Please, Techno, she’s important to me.”

“So was I.”

For the first time, he trembles fearfully in front of his lover, tears flowing freely. His heart is terrified of the look in the Prince’s eyes, but he refuses to move. He refuses to let his sister die now that she finally has a chance to chase a good life. He was ready to sacrifice himself for her sake in the past, he is willing to do it again.

He doesn’t want to die. He has so much to live for. But how can he abandon his sister?

Drista is the one to break the tension. She gently pushes him out of the way of the sword. Her poisonous green eyes now hold no sting, and her stance carries no arrogance, like the light of a candle on a windy night. Her voice is shaky, meek, as she explains that fair is fair, and that if she has to die to pay for her sins, then it might as well be by the hands of those who she has deeply wounded. There is resignation and tenderness in her goodbyes, her soft smile ignoring Dream’s frantic pleads to turn around and run once more.

Please, not her.

“I will not deny Dream the joys of a family, but you are forbidden to come _near_ the castle for the rest of your life, Deranged Queen.”

With those words, Technoblade leaves the siblings alone in the church, his cloak following him like an angel’s wing. Dream’s knees give in and he falls on the hard floor, mere inches away from the white mask he no more has to wear. Drista sits by his side, so close their arms meet and her head is able to rest on his shoulder. They stare at the door in silence,each second made of an hour.

“You chose a good one, brother.”

“... thanks… of all places, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“I remembered you talking about this town sometimes when I couldn’t sleep. I figured it would be a nice place to end it all.” She picks up the mask with delicate fingers. “I thought of throwing this away many times, once I almost threw it in the ocean, but in the end it was the only thing of yours I had left… the only thing to cling on when I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I deserve the punishment… and you deserve the happiness you found.”

“... some part of me still feels like I’ve gotten just a slap on the wrist.”

“Then let me give you your punishment: form now on, you are to seek for your own happiness no matter what! Even if it sounds crazy and looks impossible!”

Drista smiles up to him and he can’t help but deposit a gentle kiss on her forehead. His little light is so grown up now, but still has kept some of her initial childishness. The irony of two sinners sitting in the middle of a church and smiling is shoved aside for a brief second and they allow themselves to bicker like the normal siblings they cannot be.

“You should go, your prince charming is waiting.”

“Drista… please hold onto that mask for a little longer, just until your birthday.”

“My birthday?”

“I’ll bring you something better, something crafted by my own hands as the tradition goes.”

“So you can always be with me?”

“This time, it is not a shadow’s oath, but a brother’s promise.”

“Then, I will be waiting, brother.”

Dream gets up quickly, helping his sister get up with a pull. They hug once more, tears dry and hearts full, and he runs out of the church, praying to the God he doesn’t particularly like to let Technoblade still be willing to love him after this encounter.

He is filled with relief when he finds the pinkette standing at the entrance of the church, waiting for him with an extended hand, inviting him to take his rightful spot by the Prince’s side. His knees are still a little wobbly, but thankfully he has his lover to catch him when he falters.

* * *

Dream knows of regret. The melody he plays in the piano doesn’t let him forget.

“I didn’t expect you to come back.”

“Really, now?”

“She’s your sister, and you’ve already proved you will do anything for her.”

“Yes, I was raised to give everything I am to my sister… but now I’m free, and as much as I love Drista, you’re still the one I chose to be with. Nothing will change that.”

“Ever?”

“Ever, my Prince. This servant will love you even if the world turns on you, or even if the world meets its end.”

“Would that servant do so bearing the title of this Prince’s husband?”

The next melody is about happiness. Dream is quite fond of it.


End file.
